Trigger warning: violence, domestic abuse. If you spot any errors, please, let me know.
3. Mr & Mrs Scamander, part II
Luna was lying alone in her bed, too nauseous to sleep deeply, too tired to actually be awake. Even though it hadn't been for long, things were finally quiet and peaceful now. She thought she couldn't skip the opportunity to get some sleep, this was a very rare gap of quietness, so she shut her eyes tight and made an effort not to think. She tried to remind herself of the sensation of having her head infested with nargles, for it was the most blank she recalled it to ever be.
'Lysander, Lorcan, please, calm down just a bit. Mom really needs to get some sleep,' she pleaded her unborn twins in her mind as she caressed her own prominent belly.
She had been dozing off for a bit when she was startled by a loud bang coming from outside the room. Instantly, she picked up her wand, wide awake, pointed it at the door and began casting non-verbal protective spells, 'Colloportus, Protego Totalum, Repello Inimicum, Salvio Hex...' but she couldn't get through them all. She fell sprawled out on her bed, breathless, her head pounding, too exhausted to perform any more magic, her powers completely drawn out. She knew the kids had also sensed something was wrong, for she felt them uneasy inside her.
As she laid back with her eyes shut, more noises followed the first one, and they increased gradually. Her short-lived peace was over, her husband was on a rampage again. She thought he must have already left the underground room, for she could now distinguish his grunting amongst all the fuss. Finally, she heard a loud thump on the door.
"Luna!" he shouted, hatefully, slamming the door relentlessly. "Open this damned door!"
"Sorry, I can't. I feel very sick right now, I can barely get out of bed. Please, let me rest just a little bit more."
He kept hammering on the closed door for minutes. She wept, silently, wishing she had been with her loving dad instead. Disapparating in the present condition wasn't an option, the risk of splinching was too high. After a while, Luna's head began pounding in the same rhythm as that obnoxious noise. She then heard her frustrated husband try to open the door with magic. When he cast 'Bombarda!' but the door didn't give in, she couldn't help but let out a shy smile: her protective spells had worked.
'Note to self: name one of the twins after Professor Flitwick,' she thought. Utterly pleased with herself, and realizing Rolf was already getting tired, she laid her head back on the pillow and tried to relax. Eventually, the noise stopped and she fell back to her light sleep.
After finally getting some sleep, she was abruptly woken up a second time, this time by her husband's deep voice swearing savagely. She glanced through the open window, noticing it was already dark outside. She sighed, dispiritedly. She had hoped he would have settled down by now.
"Luna, get over here at once!" she heard his harsh voice but didn't hear any smashing or banging. Maybe he wasn't as furious as before.
"I'll unlock the door, Rolf," she didn't know what time it was, but she knew couldn't keep him from getting into his own room at night, he too would have to go to sleep at some point. "Hold on a second, please."
She got up as fast as she could, given her present condition, seized her blanket and tossed it inside the narrow closet. Then she crawled into it, leaving the door open. Once there, she pulled her wand out and began breaking all the protective spells she had cast into the room, shutting her eyes briefly from fatigue. Lastly, she made herself as comfortable as she could inside the tiny cabinet, locked its wooden door and, once in there, cast all the same protective spells all over again.
"The door is unlocked, Rolf. Please, come in."
She heard the door to the room open. "Luna, where the hell are you!?" he howled.
"Don't bother about that, love. I'm just getting out of your way so you can freely suit yourself and do as you please. I would hate to disturb you," she said as nicely as she could. "I don't know exactly what time is it, though, if you're here to sleep, have a very good night. If you haven't eaten, there is food for you in the kitchen. I'll clean up everything later, don't worry."
"I'm not here to sleep, I want to speak to you!"
"Please, speak away. I am listening."
"Out here!"
"My sincere apologies. I really can't come out. I promise I will when you're calmer and we'll talk."
"Calmer!? I am calm!" seeming to be everything but that, he shouted. "Come out, now! I need you to find something for me!"
"What is it? Did you try summoning it, Rolf?"
"No! I don't know exactly what to summon! It's an article on the captive breeding of Chimaera. I didn't read the original, I told you to review it for me."
"I recall it..." she thought back on it. "But I don't remember the title off the top of my head, I'm sorry."
"Will you come out and find it to me!?"
"I will. When you're all settled down, I'll come out and search for it. Don't worry."
"What? I am on a deadline here! It can't wait!"
"Pardon me, Rolf. I can't. I truly can't afford to. This is my final word."
Through the closet's door, she overheard her husband thrashing their things all over. She also heard him attempting to cut the wooden closet open with a dark charm; luckily enough, this time she had managed to successfully cast the Hex-Repelling Protective Charm, Salvio Hexia, and it seemed to be working perfectly. She sighed in relief, casting one more spell, Muffiato, rested her head on her blanket and, for the first time in months, fell fast asleep.
As much as she felt refreshed when she woke up, her neck and back also stung from the uncomfortable position she had been in for so long. Breaking the Muffiato spell, she strained herself to hear what was going on outside the closet. It was absolutely quiet, she couldn't detect any sound besides her own heartbeat.
Warily, she got out of the closet, holding her wand firmly. When she finally opened the door, she noticed their room had been completely wrecked, but Rolf wasn't anywhere to be seen, and his side of the bed was still neatly squared as if nobody had slept there for days. Upon seeing that, she shivered in anticipation, foreseeing danger, though she rapidly put on an effort to settle down when she felt the boys reacting to her anxiety.
She quietly passed through the door that lead to their living room. Her husband had caused havoc on there too. She spotted the tall man passed out in an armchair, an empty bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky at his feet. Upon seeing that, she smiled, relieved. He probably couldn't cause as much trouble drunk like that. She considered taking him to bed, but she feared it could wake him up. She thus decided to take the chance to fix things up in the house and grab something to eat.
After she was done fixing the living room, it was still a bit dark out there, but the sun was starting to rise. She headed to the kitchen and, for the first time in days, had a real meal. She had been too weak to get out of bed, so she was living off muggles' processed snacks she had stored in the room. She still cooked dinner for Rolf regularly when she had a window of peace; she thought keeping him well-fed was key to putting him at ease, but she barely eat any of it. She was in midst of chewing her toast when she heard something.
On the alert, she dropped her toast and pulled her wand out. Tip-toeing back to the living room, she took a glimpse of her drunk husband staggering around the room, stumbling on the newly fixed furniture.
"Good morning, Rolf," she greeted him, impersonating her usual dreamy tone. "I'm glad you're up. I thought I should take you to bed, but I didn't want to wake you up..." completely frightened, she neared him, assisting him when she realized he would lose his balance. "Do you want me to get you some breakfast?"
"Yeah," he let go of her and staggered to the kitchen table she had been eating at. She followed him and began pouring him some coffee.
"Drink it, it'll help," she handed him a cup. "Are you feeling fine?" warm-heartedly, she caressed one of his hands that had been resting on the table, begging Merlin for the person under that skin to be the loving man she had married, not the dreadful monster from the night before.
"I'm alright," he responded in his drunk voice.
"I'm happy to hear that."
She analyzed him carefully as he sipped from his cup, her fingers forcefully clenching around her wand under the table. She wasn't going to put her guard down, she knew him too well to make that mistake. Her top priority now was to keep him calm and put him to bed as soon as possible.
"I missed my deadline."
She took a little time before answering. 'He'd probably miss it anyway, judging by his state,' she thought. However, she said, "I'm very sorry, Rolf..."
"No, you're not," he spat. "If you cared, you would've helped me."
"I am, Rolf. I wish I could've helped, but I couldn't."
"Well, you haven't been helping much at anything lately, do you? You sleep all day while I work like a house-elf on our research, that you should at least..."
"I can't, Rolf!" she lost her temper for a second but regained composure shortly after. "I am so sorry, Rolf. I am too weak to help you with anything. I really need to save my energy right now."
He let out a lively sarcastic laugh, his tongue in his cheek. "Ha! Save your energies? To do what?! Sleep all day?"
She stared at him. She was still scared, but her blood boiled with rage. Before she could think, the words had already gotten out of her mouth, in her most casual dreamy tone, "To keep me and my children from being murdered by you."
He smirked as if she had just told him a hilarious joke. She only realized what she had done when she felt her twins going wild inside her, their magic on the verge of getting out of control.
"That's ridiculous. Rest assured I would never kill you," he got up, slowly. "I know when to stop." Then he slapped her hard in the face, so hard that it almost made her fall off the chair.
"I'm sorry for what I said, Rolf. Please, forgive me," she straightened herself up on the chair.
With tears down her eyes, she now braced herself, expecting to be hit again. She didn't expect though he'd punch her straight in the nose, causing blood to spill all over the table. She started to sob, not really believing what was happening to her. She never thought he would be capable of assaulting her with his clenched fist.
"Please, stop, Rolf!" she begged, desperately, dashing away from him as fast as she could. "I can't take this anymore! I am tired of living terrified of you!" she had reached the living room and was headed towards the fireplace, but, before she could get there, he snatched her from behind in a headlock. "Please! I am bearing your children, Rolf! For Merlin's sake! Leave me alone!"
"Of course, you're my loving wife, how could I possibly have done this to you?" still restraining her, he pointed his wand at her nose and mended it, non-verbally. "I won't wound you again, Luna. I'm sorry," he wheeled her and drove her by her arms to their room.
"What are going to do to me, Rolf?" she asked, weeping.
"Sit down," he ordered, sitting on the bed. She obeyed. "It's not going to hurt you... it'll only hurt. You know what I mean?" he asked, grinning madly.
"No, Rolf. Don't," yes, she knew what he meant. "It will be extremely distressful..." she stammered, "...for, for... for the twins... It's illegal, Rolf... you... you promised... how could you..." tears fell mindlessly down her face.
"I'm really sorry, my dear," he gently brushed some tufts of her aside to reveal her neck. "I wish it wasn't necessary... but, whenever I get mad, I can't stop. I won't hurt the children, I promise," he put his wand to her neck. "Crucio."
She fell sideways on the bed, contorting herself in pain, one she hadn't experienced for quite a while, screeching so high it could break crystal glasses. When it finally came to an end, she crawled away on the bed, turning her back on him, a desperate attempt to protect her children. She not only felt Rolf torture her on the outside but also felt the twins' magic going berserk from the inside out. They seemed now to feel truly harassed.
He had resumed it. He now had cast the curse on her back. With tears flowing non-stop out of her eyes, she fought the urge to scream. She embraced the pain, for she found out it wasn't the worst that could happen to her. 'It's alright, boys,' she told them in her mind. 'Everything is fine. Please, settle down." He cursed her a couple more times, her back now harshly stinging where the spells had hit, but she strived to keep conscious. He then put his wand right to her spine, poking her hard, and hollered yet another time, "Crucio!"
This time, that familiar pain never came. Instead, Luna could feel the spell pierce burningly right on the point Rolf had his wand. Then she sensed her boys getting more hectic than ever. She felt like she would throw up sparks and as if her body would rip apart from the inside out. At that moment, she realized: he had hit them.
"NO, YOU WON'T!" she squealed so brutally she sensed a vein on her neck was about to burst. She leapt out of the bed driven by pure rage, struggling thoughtlessly. Then, most unexpectedly, she heard a colossal boom. Rolf had been sent flying violently across the room and she hadn't even noticed. She found him completely knocked out on the floor, blood spilt all over the wall.
She scanned the room for anyone else. Maybe someone had heard her screams and came to aid, but there was no one. She then stumbled and almost fell on the floor; she couldn't stand straight again, for her spine ached immensely. She crawled on the floor towards Rolf's wand and tried to produce a patronus, though she failed. So, she summoned something Hermione had given her, the muggle communication device.
"Come on, come on," she moaned, having trouble working it. It didn't respond to anything she tried. She muttered a spell Hermione said could charge the thing, whatever in the world that meant, and a light came out of it. She could hardly believe this thing could work without magic. "Ginny," she said with a cracking voice when her friend picked up. "Help me..."
"Minerva, I bring Scamander."
"We are expecting you. Please, come in," answered Professor McGonagall.
Professor Flitwick walked into the headmaster's office with Lorcan and Luna following him shortly behind. Next to her desk, Professor McGonagall had been waiting with Professor Slughorn and Professor McKinnon.
"Mr Scamander, Luna, please, sit down," she politely indicated the chairs opposing her desk. They greeted her with quick nods before sitting down. "So, Mr Scamander, one week has passed since you were suspended from this school. We all hope you have learned something, don't we? Luna, how has Mr Scamander's behaviour been these last days?"
"Well, Professor McGonagall, as far as I'm aware, he didn't use magic illegally at home, nor has he talked back on me this whole week. But I hardly think that is definitive proof that he's really committed to improving his behaviour. We'll have to watch how he's going to act once he's back at school."
"What do you think, Mr Scamander? Have you thought about your actions when you were at home?"
"Yes, professor," he replied dispirited, gazing at his feet. "I feel very guilty... but..." as his voice died, he silently buried his head in his hands.
"What is it, dear?" visibly worried, Luna warmheartedly caressed her child's hair.
"Sometimes I just... I just can't help it..." he was now on the verge of crying. "I felt so... angry..." he was taking some time to choose the words, for he was confused and didn't know how to accurately explain his feelings.
"That's precisely why Professor McGonagall called me here, Mr Scamander," Professor McKinnon joined in. "So, we have been talking and, to sum up, we're a little worried about you. Please, answer sincerely, we only mean to help you..." she took a deep breath and continued. "For how long exactly have you been... I mean... you were introduced to... you know... dark arts?" even though she had been trying to soften up her tone, it clearly didn't work. Luna was taken aback by the question and more so was Professor Slughorn, who almost fell off his chair.
"I... I don't understand, professor," Lorcan, for his part, seemed to be more puzzled than shocked. "What do you mean by 'dark arts'?"
"Mr Scamander, you can tell us everything," Professor McKinnon gestured at other professors as she encouraged the boy to speak up. "You pleaded guilty in an investigation at the Ministry for casting an Unforgivable Curse, isn't it right? To be more specific, the Killing Curse. I don't even know how a little kid who didn't even have his own wand and with no magic training could do it..."
"I'm sorry, professor, but is this conversation really necessary?" Luna interrupted, slightly uneasy. "You have been well informed about this incident by me before the start of the term. I hardly think there's anything else you need to know..."
"Yes, my dear, I fear it is really necessary," Professor Flitwick, who had been standing next to the door, moved towards her and gently took her right hand into both of his. "We really must know the exact reason why Mr Scamander has been able to produce dark magic powerful beyond his control. What you have told us do not clarify that."
"Oh, this is what you mean by 'dark arts', then?" Lorcan mildly raised his head to face Professor McKinnon, as if his mother had not interrupted the conversation at all. Nonetheless, he rapidly shifted back his gaze to the floor. "I'm... not supposed... I mean... well... maybe I'll talk to you, but only if you promise not to inform the Ministry or anyone else, no matter what I say. Do I have your word?"
"We want to help you, Mr Scamander, not to judge you," seriously but welcoming, Professor McGonagall reassured.
"I really mean it. No matter what," the boy stressed. "Can it be so? You all swear?"
"Just spit it out, boy!" a nervous Professor Slughorn pushed.
Everybody's eyes pierced the kid fiercely, all of them emanating interest, concern and anticipation. He, however, kept silent. Dozens of seconds later, his voice filled the room, breaking the silence. Albeit it sounded decisive, he didn't dare to face anyone and kept his head down.
"I don't trust you."
"Scamander! What...!? But...!? How come!? Unbelievable!" an outraged Professor Slughorn raised his voice, although he was not much sure what he was actually preaching about. "Apologize, right now! Disrespecting your professors again!"
Lorcan didn't have a chance to answer, for before he could even look up, Luna's dreamy voice came out first, "Professor Slughorn, I reckon who he doesn't trust is not a professor of Hogwarts. That was actually addressed at me..." she paused quickly as everyone's attention shifted to her. "I'm definitely sure Lorcan was not the real culprit of casting that Unforgivable Curse. I don't know details of what actually happened, but I'm sure very few of what he's testified to the Auror Office is true."
She, who had not been looking at him, now sought to meet his eyes. Still, he fled her, diving his head down even further, staring blankly at his own feet. Nobody said anything, so she continued, "I'm guessing the reason he's afraid to tell us anything is that he believes I intend to press charges against his father to the authorities. If so, Lorcan, your conclusion is inaccurate," she elaborated as if she was teaching a class. "First of all, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has already decided to take your word over mine. Hence, if I claimed you told me a different story from that of your testimony, I would likely be severely discredited, all the more since my sanity has been cast into doubt." She forced a smile, though it failed to conceal her sorrow. "Secon, I have already accepted that it is of enormous importance to you that your father is not turned in, that's why I am determined not to do that."
"If that's the situation, I'm willing to make the Unbreakable Vow. I swear I won't inform anyone," Professor McKinnon reached out for the boy's hand. "I'm sorry, but I will have to ask everybody else to leave. Except you, Mrs Scamander. Would you be our witness?"
"No, no... It's not necessary... you can all stay..." the kid gestured at professor McKinnon as to politely turn down her outstretched hand. "I... I will tell you..." he took a deep breath to get ready. "Ok, let's go... I did try the... Killing Curse... sometimes... but I couldn't get it right." This time, Professor Slughorn really fell out of the chair. "No, professor, I didn't mean to kill anyone! I tried on a creature... I didn't even know it worked on humans, nor that it was meant to kill someone."
"Is this true, Mr Scamander?" an unconvinced Professor McGonagall inquired. "Can you explain to us what you believed this curse was actually for?"
"I wanted to help my dad with his work, that's all, professor!" if Professor Slughorn had been sitting, he would have fallen out of the chair once more, but, since he had decided it was a better idea to keep standing, this time he fell onto Professor McGonagall's desk. "No, we didn't mean anything bad with it! He uses the spell in the process of production of Powder of Pure Essence of Phoenix. We didn't mean to kill any person or creature, it's only meant to speed up the process of rebirth..."
"Is this legal?" Professor McKinnon's eyes almost popped out of her face as she turned to question Luna. "Well, it's a very complex and evil piece of dark magic to be used so recklessly, for something so ordinary. But maybe it's required for this, isn't it?" she sounded almost like begging for it to be true. "What is the official position of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Mrs Scamander?"
"That's why I told you not to say anything!" Lorcan snarled, almost bursting into flames of anger, though he rapidly regained his composure and added politely, "I mean, I asked you, professor. Please, I beg you! Dad is a good man. He could end up in Azkaban...!" he was now tearing. "He doesn't do this anymore... he promised he wouldn't..."
"It's alright, dear, it's all fine..." Luna reached out and embraced her son, patting his head as he sobbed. "Dad is not going to Azkaban, I promise..." he began to settle down. She now caressed his face gently. "They only want to know about you, just to help you better, right?"
"That's right, Mr Scamander," Professor McGonagall agreed. "Our goal here is to help you, that's all. So, Mr Scamander, please be sincere: has your father introduced you to any other piece of dark magic or is that all? Have you cast or tried to cast any other jinxes or curses?"
"I don't know, professor. I don't know what is considered to be dark magic. I am telling you the truth. If you tell me more about it, maybe I'll know."
"Well, Mr Scamander, roughly speaking, curses are spells that intend to cause a great deal of damage, harm or pain to a victim. I don't think I need to explain why the Killing Curse fits into this category, do I?" Professor McKinnon paused her lecture expecting acknowledgement from the boy, who nodded his head. "So, have you tried any other piece of magic that resembles this description?"
"No, professor," he replied apathetically, without taking his eyes off the floor.
"Right, kid. That's a good thing. Let's go on. Dark magic often requires a strong and unusual will to be performed. What I'm trying to say is, it demands a powerful will to hurt, injure or damage someone... in short, hatred. That's why the more you're involved with dark magic, the more you will be likely to feel angry, which, for its part, strengthens your dark arts even further. It is a full circle. Have you tried any other piece of magic that requires hatred to be performed?"
"Well... there was another spell my dad asked me to cast, but I couldn't at first. He wanted me to open a cut in his arm, but it didn't work. He told me I had to really mean it..."
"Diffindo?" interrupted Professor Flitwick. "No, I'm sure it's no kind of dark magic."
"No, professor," continued Lorcan. "He needed me to cause a wound in him, you know, just to so he could test his powder... he tried to give me instructions to a spell that could harm him, but, at first, no matter what I did, I couldn't. He stressed I needed to want to harm him," Professor McKinnon's eyes widened at this statement. "Dad also said mom's wand could be resisting me... I only managed to do it when he lent me his own..."
"So, in the end, you successfully injured your dad?" Professor McKinnon tried to remain calm, though she couldn't repress her concern entirely. "Your mother's wand resisted to it? Do you remember the incantation?"
"I'm sorry, professor. I don't."
"Would it be Sectumsempra?" Luna answered instead, in a lousy impression of her usual dreamy voice.
Professor McKinnon stared puzzled from the kid to his mother and from her back to him repeatedly, utter surprised at what she'd heard. Professor Slughorn, for his part, had now violently stumbled on McGonagall's desk, spreading all the papers that had been on it across the room's floor.
"I have never heard of this..." muttered Professor McKinnon more to herself than for the others.
"I have," an impassive voice came from the wall behind Professor McGonagall's desk. "I was the one who invented this curse. It appears to have become more popular than I intended it to be. Minerva, Filius, maybe you have heard of it before."
"Unfortunately, yes, Severus," Professor McGonagall replied in between her teeth.
"I'm aware Mr Potter's found my old potions book in his sixth year, from which he's learned several spells invented by me. It seems he has taught it to his little friends too, isn't this so, Miss Lovegood? Oh, it's Mrs Scamander now, pardon me. And it seems you've introduced it to your husband as well. I'm impressed, actually. I still pictured you as an innocent little girl forced out of Hogwarts Express, but you sure have changed..."
"I have never had anything to do with dark arts, professor," she stood up without losing her temper yet staring defiantly into the eyes of the portrait. "I had no idea Harry knew that spell. I assume you've taught my husband when he was a student, no, professor? He was in Slytherin at the time you were the head of the house, always favouring its students. I wouldn't be surprised if he has learned it from you, sir."
"Oh, now you're more like the Loony Lovegood I've met, hopelessly delusional and detached from reality," he replied sarcastically, smirking. "Yes, I used to do that. All the students of Slytherin have had secret Dark Arts classes with me at the Chamber of Secrets when I was the director of the house, Lovegood, and you were the only one wit enough to figure it out. Congratulations. You should owl that weirdo you call father right away. Perhaps there is still time for it to make The Quibbler's next issue!"
Phineas Nigellus Black cackled at the remark, which caused him to be severely reprimanded by Professor McGonagall, "Phineas! Quiet!"
Without objection, he promptly obeyed. Professor McGonagall, thus, continued, "Thank you, Severus, for your comments have been quite helpful. However, how the curse has become well-known isn't the matter here. We may discuss it another time..."
"Absolutely, Minerva," added Snape, now going back to his usual impassive tone. "But I think I still may be of a little help here. I may know a thing or two about dark arts that young Professor McKinnon doesn't..."
"I bet you really do, Professor Snape. In fact, maybe I was thinking I could come here afterwards so you could... hum... teach me a little about this curse...? And its counter-curses? You know, purely for academic reasons..." Professor McKinnon's concern had apparently vanished, for Snape's portrait had taken upon his shoulders all the responsibility for figuring out the issue. She now displayed lively curiosity, as if she was attending an extremely interesting advanced course of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"I will be looking forward to it, McKinnon," Snape agreed, cheerless as if he wouldn't really. "So, one question, and I urge both of you, mother and child, to be sincere. Have any of you ever been targeted by darks arts? I'm sorry, I do have to clarify, Loony, I do not want to know if you've been attacked by me, nor by other dark wizards. I specifically want to know if you've been attacked by your husband."
Upon hearing this question, Lorcan mustered all his forces to act normally, even though he felt as if his heart were pierced by the horn of an erumpent and were on the verge of eruption. This time, more than ever, he didn't turn his head up, but he tried to glance sideways at his mother. She, for her part, had not moved a single muscle since she heard the portrait's question; actually, she wasn't even blinking. Realizing he would have to be the one to break the silence, trying to sound nonchalant, he whispered, "No, professor. Never."
She, nonetheless, stood still, unresponsive. She could even have been a statue. Thus, Professor Snape repeated the question:
"Have you, Lovegood?"
"No, Professor Snape," she replied robotically, almost as impassive as the portrait. "I haven't been attacked by dark arts. At least by my husband, no."
"Good. Back then I didn't mean to harm you severely, Loony, so you should be completely recovered by now. As for you, Mr Scamander, you should quit right away playing with magic you don't understand. Also, never mess with another wizard's wand. A wand is a delicate magical device that is loaded with its owner's power. When you took your father's wand, a portion of his power has been likely transferred to you, much more than what you are able to handle, I'm afraid." His eyes now met Luna's, a look she knew very well, from the multiple times when he had interrogated her during the course of her sixth year. "I suppose we should be glad your husband is not really a dark wizard, or it could have been much worse than it was..." he crossed his arms before turning his stare to Lorcan. "You're dismissed. You may now return to the dungeons. And try not to shame the house of Slytherin any further."
"Severus! You don't dismiss my students!" objected Professor McGonagall.
"We are done here, Minerva. I'll leave you for five minutes so you can bid goodbye before I come back. I have to talk with Loony in private. We have unfinished business," swinging his black cape, he swayed with resolution and left his portrait.
"Thanks for trusting us, kid," Professor McKinnon smiled gently at Lorcan, who tried to reciprocate her, without much success. "I agree with Professor Snape. From now on, don't try any magic besides what we teach you in class, right? It doesn't matter who you see performing it, don't try it. If you stick to what you learn in class, I guarantee you won't bump into anything dangerous. I also find it wise to have someone perform a counter-curse on you, just for precaution. You may have some minor magical wound. Do we have a deal?"
"Deal, professor. Thank you."
"And let's not forget, you've got detention with me every day until the end of the term, Mr Scamander!", Professor Slughorn raised his voice. "You are now officially the new handyman of this school! If we need anything, we'll get you on it! Let's just hope it makes you stay on the line from now on!"
"Mr Scamander, it's breakfast time. If you don't have anything important to do at your house, I suggest you head straight to the Great Hall," Professor McGonagall said, seeking to pretend she didn't have Snape's words in her mind. "Then you may go to today's classes."
Lorcan took leave and walked through the door escorted by Professor Slughorn, leaving Luna, Flitwick, McGonagall and McKinnon behind. When the door closed behind them, Professor McGonagall invoked, "Severus, you may come back now. What is it that you wanted with Miss Lov... Luna?"
"Thank you, Minerva. Well, I recall I was clear when I said I wanted to talk to Loony, wasn't I? I only wonder why you're still standing here, Professor McKinnon. Filius, I have to ask you to leave as well."
"You can't banish people from my office, Severus!"
"Unfortunately, I couldn't make you leave as well, Minerva, since it's your office, but I would appreciate it if you did. This is a really delicate matter."
As Professor McKinnon quietly left the room and an outraged Professor Flitwick objected, Luna just kept staring paralyzed at the portrait. Flitwick stood unmovable next to her, assuming she was shocked for the same reason as he was and would fiercely oppose his exit too. Nevertheless, the idea of Professor Snape having a delicate matter to deal with her stole the voice from her throat.
"If it has to do with Luna, I will stay, Severus!" squeaked Flitwick, expecting a reaction from her that never came. Seconds later, he realized she had blanked out and called her, "Dear, are you alright?"
"Yes, I am fine, thank you," she snapped out of her trance. "Please, Professor Snape, there is nothing you could have to tell me that Professor Flitwick can't hear."
"Very well, Loony. Filius, Minerva, I shall commence..." he straightened himself and arranged his long cape. "So, it is possible for one to perform dark arts without damaging the purity of its soul, though it is an extremely unusual exception and it requires expertise. I don't think it is the case at hand, given that Mr Scamander is a wizard with little training, unable to tell what is dark magic and what is not. If the boy was able to produce dark magic capable of harming his father, I'm not much surprised that he may have been capable of harming his mother as well. He's been meddling with powerful magic that he is unable to control. However..."
Professor McGonagall seemed relieved that Snape had the discernment not to tell all of this in front of the kid. Luna, for her part, seemed horrified. Noticing that, Professor Flitwick held her hand in a vain attempt to soothe her.
"I also find it to be curious that your wand's resisted at the attempt of a damaging curse. That probably confirms your allegations that you have not been involved with dark arts whatsoever. It is, nonetheless, disturbing to think the boy has managed to perform it with his father's wand. If a wand belongs to a wizard proficient in dark arts, it doesn't seem strange if one can more easily perform this kind of magic with it. I must stress, though, this is just a hypothesis. Some people sometimes have a hard time distinguishing hypothesis from reality..."
"Are you keeping Luna here just to offend her, Severus?" whined Flitwick. "Will you quit beating around the bush!?"
"It seems likely to me, though..." Snape raised his voice above Flitwick's, "...that the reason why the boy could produce so much dark magic unintentionally is that he has received this power from a wand which has performed dark magic intentionally. I suppose your husband's wand has not only transferred powers to your son but also a strong will to harm... and harm you in particular, Loony." He paused to survey her, who had been shaking and anxiously squeezing Flitwick's hand. "If your husband has really never attacked you..." he phrased in a sceptical tone, "...I suggest you get yourself checked for silent curses."
"I could do this myself if I was alive," he went on. "Since I am not, Minerva shall be able to help you with this." McGonagall nodded, concerned. "There are many of them, let alone some antiquated curses conceived precisely to be used on one's spouse. If that is not the case, good. But it would be recommendable to stay alert. He could be up to something. If things were only about a Killing Curse on a creature and opening a wound to test a remedy, I'd doubt your son could be able to release as much dark power as he has. Lastly, I shall stress yet again all of this is hypothetical."
"Thank you very much, Professor Snape," Luna, meaning to regain composure, forced a smile. "I will seriously take your warn into account."
"Severus, please pay a visit to your other portrait now to discuss this matter. He may be of help," Professor McGonagall requested, getting up. "Albus, go with him."
"Do I need to, really?" asked Snape, dishearted.
"Quit that, Severus! Potter likes you. He is the sole reason I had your portrait made!"
"Oh, no!" mindlessly, Luna leapt to her feet. "I mean..." she tried to regain her composure. "Thank you very much, Professor Snape. I'd really appreciate it if we could keep this conversation to ourselves, though."
"Why is that?" Professor McGonagall asked, preoccupied. "Are you and Potter no longer friends?"
"No, it's not that, it's just..."
"Why is Loony..." Snape interrupted her, speaking slowly and analyzing her keenly. "...keeping secrets... from her friends?" his eyes pierced her. "I'm on it, Minerva." He swung abruptly, leaving his portrait.